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Izuku was lonely as a child. The type of loneliness that went unseen, hidden by baggy sweatshirts in summer and hardly touched bowls of food. A feeling that created an ache in his bones and seemed to weight thousands of pounds.
Some days, Izuku felt like he was drowning. Murky water seemed to settle quite nicely in his lungs and with every breath, the tide thrashed at his throat.
Other days, it felt like fire. As if the sun had taken claim in his stomach and the water evaporated from his body. A blinding white pain that seemed to carve its language into his marrow.
The fire paired fine with the harsh hand of his father. The towering man knew nothing of softness or niceties. He knew booze and how to use his quirk enough that no one would ask questions.
Fire breathing was a horrid quirk if Izuku had anything to go off of.
The smoke came first. It was a warning to get away and run. Smoke meant fire and fire meant charred flesh and phantom pains that lasted for weeks.
Izuku was afraid of fire, but Izuku was not afraid of Kacchan.
The two met through peaks and glances hidden behind their mothers’ legs. Each curious of what the other child was going to do next. But Kacchan- bold and brass and blunt as ever - decided that hiding was cowardly.
Throwing an All Might toy at someone’s head doesn't usually form a friendship, but this time it did.
So the two played. When toys and playdates became something only a child would do, they upgraded to sleep overs and hang outs at the park.
Physical touching was a must for Kacchan; hand holding, hugs and anything inbetween. Mitsuki wasn't the kindest mother and led her kin with a firm hand and a firmer voice.
Izuku thought it was weird. His own mother seemed to be the opposite of Kacchan’s. She was kind and heart felt and spoke gentle. Kacchan stayed over at Izuku’s house more often than not.
Attached at the hip. That's the only way to describe them. Wherever Izuku was, screaming from a certain blond was never out of ear shot. But even with the constant presence of someone, Izuku still felt alone.
He was lonely in every sense of the word. Whichever way you rewrite it or rephrase it, at the end of the day, Izuku would be the only one there to hold himself as the sun set through his window and the shadows whispered lullabies into his ears.
Kacchan made the loneliness fade. The blonde haired fireball of a child attracted adventure and sparked something in Izuku’s heart. Trespassing into abandoned buildings and seeing how far they could jump from a swing. There was no rhyme of reason to Kacchan’s adventures. And Izuku was ok with that.
Sometimes, when the shadows had gone to rest and Izuku was left alone to entertain his mind, he imagined how he would be if they hadn't drifted apart. He would whisper stories he had shared with the blond to the shadows or who ever would listen.
He thought it was selfish at first, holding onto something that only brought him pain. But who was there to stop him? The shadows loved his stories and the moon shone brightest at the end of his tales.
They loved the tales of Kacchan-And-Izuku.
And Izuku loved Kacchan.
But Izuku seemed to be the only one who felt that. Who knew one word could change the trajectory of one’s life? And such an ugly word at that. One that could not be passed by as affectionate, or as a joke.
Faggot.
Izuku was just going into the fifth grade when he was called that word. Technically, Kacchan and him had both been called that goddamned word. Izuku has racked the memory of that day. Scrubbed it clean with analysis of why his upperclassman even knew of the word.
He questioned the students parents. Where they the ones who filled his head? Or perhaps he thought that up on his own? Did everyone think that way? Why?
Certainly holding hands with your best friend wasn't a crime, was it? But the way Kacchan had thrown his hand away, a fearful look in his eyes Izuku had never seen before - Kacchan was never scared of anything - as he looked at Izuku in a new found way.
His fear morphed into disgust quickly. Too quickly for Izuku to even register that the one comfort he could always depend on, was gone. His best friend, his life line had abandoned him near the monkey bars with nothing but sand in his shoes.
Everything was different after that.
Kacchan-and-Izuku had become Bakugou and Deku. Bakugou was welcomed with open arms by the classmates they both shared. With good grades and girls realizing that cooties were actually a good thing, Bakugou slowly forgot about Izuku-Now-Deku altogether.
He was invited to the birthday parties, and the hangouts. He was the first boy in their grade to kiss a girl. He was given any awards that could be given, and then some.
And Izuku-Now-Deku was left behind.
And the loneliness returned.
Izuku welcomed it. He rejoiced in the warm blanket of nothingness it provided. Addicted was an overstatement. Izuku could live without the aches in his bones and the headaches from not eating enough; the depression that he felt was heaven to him.
A safe haven.
It nurtured his every need.
——————
His father left in a blaze of glory. Literally.
The burns put Izuku in the hospital for weeks. He could hardly remember though, between the medications and the pain becoming too much for his twelve year okd body to handle.
The scars were not unwelcomed.
A large burn scar covering his shoulder blades tells the story that ends with a broken leg, fractured rib and a bloody nose.
Deku thought his scars look like angel wings.
Ironic.
But as the burning pain dulled, Izuku stayed confined to his bedroom. His bare walls never bothered him, but now they seemed to only reflect his soul.
Nothing.
Empty.
Deku thought the loneliness was just confined to the four walls of his bedroom. He thought that he, and he alone, suffered from what he had dubbed ‘The Feeling’.
Because that was all that it was, right? Just a silly feeling only he felt deep in his bones and rotting away at his soul that only touched him when he passed the threshold between the hallway of his mother’s apartment and his room.
But he wasn't the only one with The Feeling. As he grew older, he saw things that his mother tried to hide from him. How she would sleep all day, forgetting about her child completely. Deku saw the lifeless look in her eyes as she stared out their living room window.
The dirty dishes in the sink for weeks and the laundry that never seemed to be clean. Empty cupboards filled with cans of non perishables because no one knows when the grocery list on the fridge will actually become a reality.
He saw it all. And he never judged his mother for that. Some people just couldn't care for a child, and Deku would rather it be him suffering than someone else.
But still.
He would gaze through his bedroom window and watch mothers and fathers walking hand in hand with their children after school. Loving smiles on their faces.
Deku hated it.
He hated how they didn't even know he existed in his apartment building so high above them. How they loved in their content lives, going day to day, not worried enough to look up and see him.
His mother and Deku were alike. They both suffered from The Feeling. Deku couldn't do anything about it.
And he felt selfish. He wanted The Feeling to only affect him because it was so comfortable. He loved the comfort of feeling absolutely nothing and relished at the fact that he could always rely on it. The Feeling had replaced whatever hole Bakugou had left in his heart.
And Deku was ok with that.
He was also ok with rotting away in his bed for days at a time. He did it once by accident, he swears it was an accident , but his mother never scolded him for it. He went to school the next day and no one had noticed he was absent the day after. Or the day after that.
It was like he vanished. And Deku was perfectly content with vanishing into The Feeling.
The year had passed by and school was let out for summer before Deku had realized. He only knew this because Bakugou came by his apartment to give him all the stuff from his locker.
The look of shock lasted throughout the awkward conversation between the two boys. Inko was too busy sleeping to answer the door, and the door bell was fucking annoying.
Wearing sweatpants and a hoodie that hadn't been washed in who knows how long, Deku opened the door.
Bakugou had grown a little. His shoulder almost hit Deku’s nose. The boys stared at each other, not knowing what to say.
“You look like shit.”
Bakugou, forever the gentleman.
“Never heard that one before.”
Deku, done with his shit.
The taller boy looked taken aback at the sarcasm. He knew Deku was going through something but he just thought he was lazy. But now that he actually looked at him, he felt anxious leaving Deku alone.
He was pale. Unnaturally so, as in hasn't-seen-sunlight-in-years pale. The freckles on his cheeks looked more like dots of permanent marker than actual freckles and his teeth were yellow like corn.
The dark bags under Deku’s eyes shared the same shade as his greasy green hair, that looked more like black because of the shit caked into it.
All in all, Deku needed to have a shower and some fucking food. At least that’s what Bakugou thought. And he told him as much.
“Pass, thanks though. Why are you here?”
Bakugou isn't one to be rendered speechless, but there he was. This person in front of him obviously wasn't Deku. The Deku he knew smelled obnoxiously of sunshines and looked like he gave rainbows blowjobs as a part of his daily routine.
This wasn't Deku.
But Bakugou, too young to understand what was happening, didn't care. They weren't friends, his teacher just knew that they lived close by so he gave Bakugou whatever they found in Deku’s locker.
Bakugou handed Deku everything that he was given, and left.
Deku shrugged and retreated back to his bed, throwing everything in the garbage on his way back to his room.
Sliding under the covers and closing his eyes, he forgot all about the interaction. The shadows wrapped him in their embrace and settled in his chest.
The weight felt lovely.
——————
The summer heat was horrid.
Air conditioning wasn't something Inko could afford to pay for, with her buying new dresses and purses.
The men were new too.
It happened suddenly. Deku couldn't remember the last time he ate, so he went to grab a granola bar or something that would be light.
He expected to be in and out, arriving hungry and leaving with his meal for the next couple of days.
He was not expecting his mother to be dressed to the nines and a man who looked very similar to his father chatting in the living room.
His heart stopped. Because hoky fucking ahit that man looked exactly like his dad.
Plot twist, it's his dad.
Hisashi Midoriya had been a passing memory, only alive in the scars he left and the aching bones that trembled under Deku’s skin. He had left them years ago. He was supposed to stay a memory.
Just like that, Deku was back in a hospital room with wires and IV lines connected to him like puppet strings. His mother sobbing into Mitsuki’s arms and promising her little boy would never hurt like how he had been.
He believed her promise. Whether it be from delirium from all the medication or the hope that Hisashi Midoriya could be put out like the fire he started, Deku believed her.
Turns out, she’s a fucking liar.
The adults still as Deku stared at them. Both not knowing what to say.
“What the fuck are you doing here?”
Deku was long past giving a shit. And so was Hisashi.
The slap wasn't expected, but it stung with familiarity. It brought back glimpses of Deku’s childhood. The hits following were expected though. Just as Deku expected his mother to stay on the couch, silent like the fucking coward she was.
Deku learned what hate was that day. He felt the fire licking at his veins and the ringing in his ears was what rage felt like. And he loved it.
He loved the feeling of skin being broken and the smell of burning flesh because it reminded him that he was human. He was alive.
And he did not give a single fuck.
After Hisashi was done with his tantrum, Deku picked himself up and walked back to his room. And the world kept turning and time didn't stop and Deku was ok with that.
Inko apologized via note the next morning. She didn't actually say the words ‘i’m sorry’ but the money attached to the note was enough for Deku. The note told him to buy comic books, so he did.
It didn't matter that he hadn't been outside in months or that the last comic book he read was when he and Bakugou still had play dates.
Finding clean clothes was a challenge but the sniff text worked just fine in the past. Black hoodie and black sweatpants and horrid red shoes that were one size too small was the only armour Deku wore as he battled the outside world.
He honestly couldn't remember the last time he went outside. He forgot how loud it was; how bright the sun was and how much people didn't care about a young teenager standing on the street.
Being shoved to the ground hurts. A lot. Tears begged to be shed, but Deku pushed them away because only faggots cry . Bakugou had told him that. So Deku was prepared to pick himself up off the cracked concrete with no help.
Deku was fine with that, but apparently someone had different plans.
Strong arms scooped his body up as if he weighed nothing. Deku squeaked at the sudden contact and tried to not flinch. The money he had been holding was scattered over the pavement.
“Are you fucking joking me?”
“Pardon?”
Deku forgot he was not the only person who existed.
Mother may have raised a mentally ill teenager, but she did not raise a rude mentally ill teenager.
“Fuck, I’m sorry,” Deku rushed out. “I was talking to myself.”
The man laughed. And by fucking God was it heavenly. It sounded like gravel and made butterflies erupt in Deku’s stomach. Looking up, baby blue eyes met jade green.
His name was Kato.
He was a gentleman.
The two walked together and talked about nothing and everything. It was as if something clicked. They seemed to complement each other perfectly. Deku shyly told him that he was going to the comic store and the smile that graced Kato’s face was like nothing Deku had ever seen.
He walked Deku to the comic store and was as much of a nerd as Deku was. The two compared favourites and laughed at how similar they were.
Kato paid for Deku’s comic book, and winked when he told Deku to buy him a coffee as repayment. And Deku did. The small coffee shop was nice. Cozy.
The air conditioning was a great touch as well and when Deku rolled up his sleeves to try and cool down, Kato eyed his scars.
Deku apologized and rolled his sleeves down, only to be stopped by feather light touches from Kato. He told him they were beautiful and showed Deku his own.
The silence that followed was nice. Safe.
But the spark in Deku’s stomach told a different story. It told the story of a boy falling for a man too old because of shared scars. Looking back, Izuku would scream at Deku to run. Fucking run until his heart fell from his chest and his lungs shriveled.
But Deku couldn't hear Izuku.
They exchanged phone numbers in front of Deku’s apartment complex. And Deku stood there and watched Kato walk away with a blush on his cheeks.
——————
Kato
Hey, is this Deku?
Deku
Yes. Kato?
Kato
The only one! How are you?
——————
They texted and hung out. It was the best thing to happen to Deku in a long time. The comfort that Kato’s small house brought was glorious.
Balancing between his father’s abuse and Kato’s watchful gaze, it was a matter of time until Deku broke. He just didn't expect it to happen so soon.
Hisashi was a wicked man with the words to back it up. Anything would make him tick. Deku’s own breathing was the cause of his most recent injuries. Apparently, someone could breathe wrong.
Limping his way down the sidewalk, Deku called Kato to get him.
Kato swooped in like a knight in shining armour and kissed the swelling of Deku’s bruising jaw away. He held Deku as he sobbed in his arms and shushed any concerns Deku had about ruining his shirt.
“It’s ok to cry Bunny.”
Deku cried. He cried and sobbed and screamed out years of abuse and torture and depression away in the warmth of Kato’s arms.
It burned. He felt as though bugs had festered under his skin and maggots were eating away at his brain. The sheets surrounding them seemed to suffocate the air and Deku was exhausted.
When his tears dried on his cheeks and his throat was burning, Kato kissed his forehead and tucked him into bed and let him sleep. He felt safe.
The next morning when he woke up, Kato was there. He had slept on the couch like the gentleman he was and offered Deku a pancake he made. The two sat in the blissful peace of the morning and ate in silence.
They spent the day together, telling eachother everything and anything.
Kato learned that Deku’s name wasn't actually Deku. He refused to call Deku after learning why. So Deku-Now-Bunny was created.
“Why Bunny?” He had asked.
“Because you're so cute and innocent and your nose is small like a bunny’s nose,” Kato replied with a tap to the younger boy’s nose.
Izuku giggled at that. It was late afternoon when Kato told Izuku he could spend the night again.
“I don't want you to go back there,” He said with a flash of hurt in his face.
Izuku didn't even hesitate before accepting the offer. It was weird how easily Izuku agreed to Kato’s offer, or anything in that matter. What movie to watch, where to eat, how he should dress.
Izuku wasn't sure what they were. He had been living at Kato’s house for a week and felt like he was walking on eggshells in case the older man decided to kick him out.
“Bunny, come here please.”
Izuku sucked in a breath because he knew this was it. He had already prepared for this. The bag he had packed when he left his house a week ago stayed by the front door, just in case.
Walking into Kato’s bedroom, Izuku had already prepared himself for the speech. He was used to being pushed to the sidelines, this time would be no different. Everyone got tired of him one day.
“So, I’ve been thinking,” Kato started as he patted the empty space of the bed next to him. Izuku sat next to him with his head hung low, letting his overgrown hair curtain his face.
“I think you should stay here,” Kato finished.
And Izuku accepted.
They talked about the rules of the house, and how Izuku wouldn't need to pay rent but Kato wanted him to go to school this coming year. Izuku didn't have a choice but to say yes to every condition.
What else was he supposed to do? He loved Kato and wouldn't want to live anywhere else. The house around him was a safe place for him. He felt at ease when he went to the kitchen and lounged in the living room.
One month was left of the summer before Izuku started his last year of middle school. Kato was in his second year of college, but his classes were in the afternoon.
“I’ll be able to drive you to school in the morning.”
One month left a lot of time for things to happen. Kato wanted to get a matching tattoo with Izuku. It didn't take long for Izuku to cave and say yes to getting a small rose tattooed on the inside of his wrist.
Turns out, Kato knew of someone who was friends with someone who did tattoos on just about anyone as long as they paid under the table. The tattoo artist was a young girl, about the same age as Kato. Anything she drew on paper or skin would come to life.
The rose was beautiful. Its petals blew with the wind and glowed brightly under the sun. Kato kissed Izuku’s wrist after the tattoo, telling him how good he was.
It made Izuku warm.
The feeling of being wanted, of being loved made Izuku feel light and airy. He would forever be in debt to Kato. The man gave him everything.
He bought him new clothes for the school year, and let him stay at his house for free. He made Izuku feel wanted.
The weed wasn't something Izuku ever saw himself doing. He was a nerd at heart and never saw the excitement in having your body taken over by a plant. But Kato loved the feeling of getting high.
He gave Izuku a joint, and Izuku loved the feeling too.
The feeling of floating out of his own body and not feeling the phantom pains of his broken bones or aches from his burn scars rubbing against his clothing.
Skin to skin contact burned.
Kato hesitated as he took Izuku’s hand in his. They were both laying on their backs in Kato’s bed, staring at the ceiling. Kato squeezed Izuku’s hand and Izuku squeezed back.
And then they were kissing. Izuku’s first kiss would forever be in that bedroom with an older man who took him in.
The two laid there, nipping each other's lips and holding hands and god it felt good. The feeling of someone holding Izuku and cherishing him was something he never thought he would feel.
Hands slipping from his shoulder and onto his thigh.
Under his shirt. In his pants.
“Kato,” Izuku tried to speak but was silenced with a kiss.
“Sh Bunny.”
“No, wait I-”
“It’s ok. It’ll feel good.”
——————
Izuku awoke the next morning sore. His body hurt and cursed his brain when he got out of the bed to take a shower. Hickies covered his neck and bruises were forming on his hips.
Kato kissed him and fed him breakfast. And they never talked about it again.
The two had sex regularly. Izuku was always a bundle of nerves and a joint seemed to ease the tension he felt before they did anything. Kato was sweet with him.
It was nice.
The joints were nicer. They helped with Izuku’s shakiness and nerves. The day before school started for Izuku, the two smoked and watched movies and Izuku awoke with new bruises on his body.
The uniform he wore to school did little to hide his neck. Kato didn't have any makeup.
The rumors were new for Izuku.
People apparently thought he was either dead, transferred to a different school or left the country. When he showed up on the first day with hickies all over his neck, and seen kissing the clearly older man who dropped him off at the school gates, the student body exploded.
Slut.
Whore.
Faggot.
Those words seemed to follow Izuku everywhere he went. He paid them no mind because the harsh words died down within a week. Izuku could care less what teenagers thought of him. Why should he care? Kato said he was mature for his age.
Bakugou could only stare. He wasn't sure who this new Deku was or how he knew this guy who kept dropping him off, but he didn't like it. He didn't like that his old hag told him that Auntie Inko had dropped off the face of the Earth and no one could get a hold of her.
He didn't like the fact that when he stopped by the Midoriya household, Hisashi opened the door with a cigarette hanging from his lips and the smell of liquor assaulted Bakugou’s nose.
He hated the fact that when he asked the man if Izuku was home, he simply asked who that was.
Bakugou’s mom didn't know what to tell her son. How do you tell a middle schooler that you had cut off contact with his auntie because she had gotten back together with her abusive husband and laughed when Mitsuki asked about Izuku? You simply don't.
Mitsuki would do anything to protect her son, so lying was the only option. She didn't want her boy to see how fucked uo the world was, not yet at least. But that shattered when her son told her about Izuku.
He was quiet coming home one day, which was a red flag in itself. The brat always came home screaming at everyone and everything in his oath of destruction. The quietness was terrible.
When asked why he was quiet, Mitsuki could see the conflict behind her son’s eyes. Nothing prepared her to hear what he told her though.
He told her of Izuku’s neck and the older man and the rumours and the bruises in his hips that Bakugou saw when Deku was changing for gym class. The tattoos and the stench of weed and the cigarettes behind the school during lunch.
Mitsuki held her son because how else is she supposed to comfort a child seeing their friend becoming someone else?
The next day, after the last bell rang for school to be let out, Bakugou cornered Deku and told him to come over to his house. The green haired boy didn't say anything; too shocked to really say anything at all. He stared into the red eyes before him and wanted to see the boy he stood in front of, but all that Deku saw was the shoves off of swing sets and the hateful glares and the word faggot.
The roaring of a car engine pulled him out of his trance. Kato was here to get him.
“Sorry Bakugou, I don't think you want to be seen with a fag. I might lower your popularity by being in the same five feet as you.”
Bakugou watched with a ringing in his ears as Deku walked towards the man. He ignored students calling to him from the school gate and walked home. He felt numb. The old hag was used to his silence now.
She didn't question him as he opened the front door and walked up the stairs to his room. Looking at her husband, Mitsuki felt lost.
She thought back to the smiling boy who bonded with her son over All Might and how her and Inko were just like their sons when they met in high school. She had hoped and prayed to anyone listening that Izuku would be the one to break the cycle.
Izuku was strong and he knew his worth. No one would be able to take away his sparkle. Mitsuki believed that Izuku wouldn't walk the same path that his mother had walked on.
Mitsuki had never met Kato.
She didn't see the way his jaw ticked when Izuku did something he didn't agree with, like talking to other boys at school.
“Who was that?” Kato questioned as the two drove towards his house. Izuku could see his white knuckled grip on the steering wheel and how his brows knotted together.
“Kacchan,” Izuku replied with some hesitation. “He’s a friend of mine.”
The car fell silent at that. Izuku felt his breathing pick up because he knew. He knew that once they crossed the line between the outside world and Kato’s house, Hell would cry for him.
Kato was possessive. He made that fact known in the touches Izuku felt in the darkness surrounded by a hazy smoke. The dark bruising along his neck and shoulders and hips were evidence of it.
The small italic ‘K’ tattooed on Izuku’s temple told the depths of his possession well.
He gave Izuku everything and anything he could ever dream of. Izuku was addicted to him. And of course, Izuku would always be there when Kato needed him.
Izuku would be there between the silk sheets on the bed, or under the steam of a shower. Izuku would always be there, ready or not.
Kato helped Izuku discover he had a quirk.
Nothing flashy. The quirk allowed him to shift through the shadows. He could turn into a shadow state and hop between shadows and dark spaces. It was a quirk that left chills in his bones for days after use. To Izuku, it was beautiful.
It helped him hide from Kato on the bad days.
——————
The quirk got Izuku into the hero course. Class 1-A was weird. They were loud and full of life. Bakugou seemed to be the ringleader, much to the dislike of a certain blue haired boy.
Shinsou Hitoshi was the only one that Izuku liked. He was quiet and blunt at first, but once you know him, he softens up.
Izuku liked the comfort of the quietness he brought. It calmed his nerves and gave him time to think.
The USJ incident meant dorms to be implemented. That raised concerns for Izuku. Aizawa let everyone know they would be doing home checks to talk to each students’ parents. To anyone else, it would be embarrassing for a teacher to see their home life. For Izuku, it was Hell.
Telling Kato about the dorms was a feat.
“Kato,” Izuku spoke softly. Loud voices were against the rules for Izuku. Kato was allowed to yell though. He was allowed to do anything.
“My teacher has to come here and talk about a dorm system.”
“Bunny, surely you aren't going to leave me? Is my home not good enough for you?”
Izuku stood stock still. No. No . That wasn't it at all. He loved Kato and the home he provided. He loved everything that Kato gave him, and Izuku made sure to tell Kato that.
“Then why would you need to live in the dorms?”
Izuku shook his head. He didn't know why, it wasn't as if a villain would target him. He didn't have a flashy quirk like Todoroki or Bakugou.
“No, I know why you want to live in the dorms.”
“What?”
“You want to be closer to that purple haired boy you talk with,” Kato sneered out.
Shaking his head, Izuku denied the accusation.
“You're saying I’m wrong? That you don't want to slut yourself out to anyone that pays you the time of day?”
“No Kato! I love you and only you,” Izuku replied as tears streamed down his cheeks. He couldn't let Kato think of him like that, not when everyone else thought he was a slut.
A slap echoed through the house.
“You're a fucking liar.”
Slap.
“You really think I believe you and your whore mouth?”
Slap.
“Get the fuck out of my house.”
Slap.
Izuku slept in the shadow of a park bench that night. His quirk caused shivers to run up and down his body. But life moved on. And the next day, Izuku walked to school in a wrinkled uniform and sat next to Shinsou after giving Aizawa a signed form that said his parents agreed to let him live in the dorms.
A half assed lie of his parents away on a work trip seemed to work for Aizawa because the class began without a hitch. Shinsou could see the exhaustion coming from Izuku miles away.
He also could see the poorly covered bruises forming on his face. He didn't pry or question Izuku though, because Shinsou saw the scars in his wrists and the letter K tattooed on his temple and could read between the lines.
Shinsou could tell when something wasn't quite right with someone, because he was someone who wasn't quite right.
Life moved on for Izuku.
There were times of importance for Izuku.
Before Kato. During Kato. After Kato.
Izuku didn't account for the After Kato to actually happen. He couldn't do anything to stop it though. Kato was harsh as he was stubborn. When he spoke, whatever he said was followed through.
U.A replaced the hole that Kato left. Not fully, because Izuku still smoked cigarettes during lunch and would run his hands along his back in the darkness of his dorm room and would feel his hands on him whenever he thought of anyone else in the way he thought of Kato once.
But U.A helped fill the cracks left from Kato. Everyone was nice, Bakugou had become Kacchan again and everything seemed too good to be true.
There were bad days, of course. Where someone would move too quickly and would give a questioning look at Izuku’s flinches. Or he would see someone from a different class and think how he had found him oh god Kato was here.
U.A was good. Class 2-A was giving Izuku the chance at being someone that didn't have any connections with Kato. And when the class was going on a shopping trip and had somehow forced Kacchan to come along, Izuku couldn't say no.
——————
Iida took charge with suggestions of splitting up, which was agreed with by everyone. Izuku lit a cigarette and figured he would join with whoever would have him.
Not everyone in the class liked him because of his tattoos and smoking habits, but a few seemed to have a look in their eye that understood the way he was. And he was ok with that.
Kacchan had become closer with Izuku in his time of After Kato. The blonde seemed to always have a far away look when he stared at Izuku, as if remembering the times of blonde hair and the smell of cigarettes that stuck to the clothes of a child.
Shinsou was always there for Izuku. He held Izuku when the smaller boy had nightmares of wandering hands and whispered words that reassured Izuku that Kato wouldn't find him.
Kirishima was manly. But Izuku saw the way he eyed the food packages before eating anything. Izuku saw the small scars scattered across his thighs when he changed in the locker room. And Izuku saw some of himself in Kirishima.
Denki was a joker, a jester that used his humour and quick witted tongue to cover his insecurities. If everyone is laughing, no one can see the way he flinches from loud sounds and cowers in on himself during tests.
The five of them stood outside of the mall, Shinsou taking the occasion hit off of Izuku’s cigarette as Kirishima and Denki talked about what they should do.
Kacchan stood beside Izuku, not caring about the smell of nicotine but also refusing Izuku’s offer of a puff.
“It’s a stick filled with cancer, dumbass.”
Izuku chuckled and blew a puff of smoke in his face.
All was good. The group lessened the tension in Izuku’s shoulders. It was nice to finally act as much of a teenager as he could. It was going well. Too well.
“No fucking way!”
No fucking way.
That voice. A voice Izuku had heard on repeat in his nightmares for months. Who had whispered sweet nothings in his ear and would scream at him the next second for acting out. That voice who he knew belonged to his past.
“Bunny! Is that you?”
A flinch from Izuku was telling signs that this stranger knew him. Shinsou stood taller and angled himself in front of Izuku the best he could. Unlike the other teenagers, Shinsou knew of Kato and the horrors that name brought.
Dead silence.
The group of boys stopped to look at the stranger who seemed far too old to know anyone in their age group.
Kacchan had a hunch, which was never wrong, on who this was. Blue eyes and hickies along Izuku’s neck and a car always waiting for the green haired boy flashed in his mind. Kacchan knew who this was, and he was not letting this fucker close to him.
Izuku looked down at his rose tattoo. The oetals had long since wilted and the throwns on it’s stem pricked his skin.
All he felt was rage at that moment. Not the flashy rage that Kacchan seemed to embody on a daily basis, or the simmering rage that he saw Iida have whenever called him spoiled because of his family.
No, this one was white hot. It licked at his chest and assaulted his bones. It took over his being and seemed to whisper his darkest thoughts into the open. And he hated it. He hated the effect a simple person could have over him.
Izuku had imagined this day a million times over. He imagined screaming at Kato for breaking him; kissing him because some days the hurt of being away from him physically pained him. But now, with his peers as witnesses, Izuku felt the rage.
“Kato.”
Izuku was frozen as the man pulled him into a hug, as if they were reunited friends. Izuku’s arms stayed at his sides. Kato was either blissfully unaware of the tense body he held, or chose to ignore it to save himself some face.
“How have you been Bunny?”
“Go fuck yourself.”
The arm that stayed around Izuku’s shoulder snaked into his hair and yanked. A gasp was heard from behind them but no one moved to help, either too scared or too shocked to move.
“Tsk Bunny, I didn't think you had a mouth on you.”
Izuku said nothing, gritting his teeth and blinking away the tears from the pain in his scalp. A war was being fought between the two. Izuku refused to back down, but Kato knew everything about Izuku. Including how to make him break.
“C’mon Izuku, don't make it difficult.”
“Don't make it difficult, you know you like it.”
Skin on skin.
Gasps and moans.
Izuku looked away and Kato smirked. He won. Releasing Izuku’s hair, Kato turned to his audience.
“Sorry everyone, I forgot my manners. I’m Kato, Izuku’s boyfriend.”
No one spoke for a moment. But of course, Kacchan was not one for bullshit. And this stranger had a big sign detailing just that stapled on his face.
“What the fuck? Deku doesn't have a fuckin’ boyfriend.”
Kato smiled again. Izuku flinched.
“You must be Kacchan! Izuku’s told me so much about you.”
Kacchan was silent at that. Not wanting to risk the secrets held in those words. Kacchan knew what this man was talking about in the way he held himself and how he pulled Izuku seemingly closer.
“Kato. Let's talk somewhere else.”
Izuku was shocked at his words, at how his voice didn't waver and he wasn't bawling his eyes out at the sight of a man who broke him.
Kato liked that though, because he smiled that fucking smile and pressed a kiss to Izuku’s cheek. Izuku had to hold back a gag and walked away. He looked straight ahead, too afraid to see the looks in his classmates eyes.
“Go on without me.”
Izuku spoke and walked away.
——————
Izuku came to school the following morning. Bloodied knuckles and a broken nose told stories of horrors that his lips would never say.
A sick and twisted part of Izuku still loved Kato. He feared he always would. Because that man took away his sense of loneliness and made him special. He could forgive the too eager hands and words that held no love.
Shinsou didn't press with questions. He gave Izuku a short nod as the boy sat beside him in class. Izuku just smiled with a busted lip.
Aizawa watched from the confinement of his sleeping bag. He watched a child who was treated like an adult too young, show up to class with new bruises every other day for months. He saw the flinches during training and how Izuku Midoriya slowly became a shell of himself.
The long sleeves during summer hid nothing that Aizawa didn't already know. He saw the scars and the freshly scabbed cuts.
Aizawa was scared for the child in front of him. After pulling some strings, Aizawa found out the man who captivated Izuku’s mind had a quirk. A quirk named Persuasion. A quirk that allows the user to get anyone to do what they want by a simple suggestion.
And Aizawa wept. He wept into his husbands arms because he knew of the horrors Izuku was going through, horrors Aizawa had gone through himself once upon a time. The dark haired man knew that nothing he would say could break through Izuku’s mind.
If he got on his knees and begged; if he screamed bloody murder into the boy's face. Nothing would work. Because nothing had worked on him.
There was once a man that captivated Aizawa’s life. He was kind and loving and the man Aizawa had dreamed of. It happened too fast.
They were together less than a year when they moved in together. Looking back now, Aizawa almost laughed at how foolish he was. It was all an act to isolate him from his family and friends.
Lies spun from his tongue made Aizawa believe that his family never loved him; they would never approve of them being together because they were both men.
Not because of the ten year age gap.
Aizawa noticed it all.
Izuku pulling away from his friends.
Shinsou seemed to be the only one who talked to the shorter boy now a days. But even then, their conversations were far and few in between.
Izuku was utterly alone.
Bakugou seemed to dim as well. The firey blonde that had a personality as big as the ocean, now only spoke to his immediate friends and family. Kirishima seemed to always be with him as well.
The two grew closer, as Izuku shrunk away into the background. The dorms seemed to be infected by the two of them.
The kitchen as they made food together or the living room where they watched movies that Izuku and Kacchan used to watch when they were younger.
Izuku had been replaced. But that was ok.
He didn't expect Bakugou to wait for him. He hated the fact that he wanted him to stay by his side even as he rotted away while living. It wasn't fair to him. So Izuku let him go.
Izuku didn't deserve to talk to him. He had been replaced by someone else. Someone better equipped to deal with the blonde’s attitude.
Kirishima was manly. He could protect himself from Bakugou's explosions during training and would be there to hold the boy when he broke down from the guilt of playing a hand in Izuku’s relationship with Kato.
The red haired teen was there to wipe his tears and hold his shaking form. He would whisper how that was nonsense and Izuku was the only one to blame for his situation.
Izuku wasn't supposed to hear that part. But the locker room walls have echoes and the door separating the locker room and the school hallway is quite hollow.
Kirishima was right though. Izuku could only blame himself for Kato’s harsh hand and whispered threats in the middle of the night.
Izuku could not place the blame on his father’s abuse or his mother’s ignorance on the matter. He could not blame Bakugou for distancing himself from a depressed teenager, or Bakugou’s parents for not calling once in a while.
Izuku made his choices. He choose to stay with Kato after the first slap, and he choose to warm his bed at night. Even though he was young, surely he knew what he was doing was wrong and sinful. Yes.
And for that, Izuku had no one else to blame but himself when he stayed with Kato after the other man showed him pictures and videos of the two.
He choose to stay because what else would he do? Who else would show him the same love and admiration that Kato showed him? He would be alone without Kato.
But Izuku had been alone long before he met Kato, and that thought was enough for him. He had survived without Kato. And this time would be no different.
Izuku Midoriya left Kato on a Saturday afternoon. The older man came home to see Izuku packing his bags. Everything Izuku owned filled two large backpacks.
“Bunny?”
Izuku stilled at that name. He forgot about the bags momentarily. Forgot why he was leaving Kato as warm arms embraced him from behind. Lazy kisses along his neck left him melting.
“What's going on?”
Right. He was leaving. No amount of sweet talk or emoty promises would stop him now. Izuku refused to answer, instead shaking the arms off of him and zipping up the full backpack.
“Bunny.”
That was his warning before a hand locked into Izuku’s hair. Kato hated being ignored, a lesson Izuku learned early into the relationship. A shudder passed through Izuku as Kato held firm.
“Are you leaving me?”
Izuku stood still. He didn't dare say anything in fear of not being able to walk out of the house. His silence seemed to spur the blonde on.
“Bunny,” Kato spoke with mocking hurt in his voice.
“Why would you leave me?”
“Who else would want something like you?”
“You’re nothing without me Izuku.”
So Izuku stayed. He unpacked his bags with tears running down his cheeks and less hair on his head than he had when he first started.
The beating after was cruel. Not as cruel as Kato’s friends though. With no weed to ease his anxiety, or booze to give him courage, Izuku stayed conscious the entire time. He stayed awake through blurry eyes and the sound of skin slapping skin exhoing through the room.
The Monday following, Izuku limped between classes. He hadn't spoken a word to anyone. Refused to soeak because he knew if he did, he would break.
Aizawa had always been a comfort to him. The teacher told the class very early on in the year about the horrors of what he had seen with being an underground hero. Izuku connected to him because they both seemed to be fucked up.
So in between classes, Izuku decided to do something.
To finally find an out.
It was a shock to Aizawa. The man had expected all of his students to rush out of class once the bell rang. All of them did, besides one.
Izuku stayed rooted to his desk and didn't move untik the last student had left. Aizawa wondered if he was even breathing, he looked so still.
Aizawa stayed behind his desk, and Izuku stayed at his own. He wasn't sure exactly why his student had stayed behind, but he decided to treat Izuku like a feral cat. He didn't move, waiting for him to make all the decisions at his own pace.
“Sir. I need help.”
Izuku refused to make eye contact. He was much more interested in the grains of pattern that made up his wooden desk. Aizawa didn't speak.
“He’s not nice anymore.”
Izuku looked up then. His bloodshot eyes paired with the bruising along his jaw and neck made Aizawa’s heart stop. This boy, this fucking child, had been out through Hell and back in the name of love.
A sob bounced around the walls of the classroom.
Aizawa rushed forward and hugged him.
Izuku broke.
Izuku told his teacher everything.
He told him of the comic book store. How gentle he had been when they furst met. Izuku told his teacher about the weed and the tattoos and Kato’s older friends and how he didn't want them to touch him but Kato said it was ok so it must be ok.
Aizawa told Izuku about Persuasion.
And Izuku sobbed.
——————
No one realizes, but Aizawa knew people from working underground for so long. He knew of bad people who would do anything for the right price. Aizawa also had a lot of people oweing favours.
Enough people that if a certain blonde haired boy and his group of friends disappeared out of thin air, no one would question it. No one would even remember they exsisted.
Aizawa slept easily that night. He would deal with the child sleeping in his guest bedroom in the morning, but right now? He slept with the knowledge that Izuku Midoriya was ok.